


Exhalation

by Rotpeach



Series: The Great Tumblr Rehoming of 2018 [32]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Blindfolds, Naga, Other, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rotpeach/pseuds/Rotpeach





	Exhalation

The waiting is, in itself, a sort of pain, wrapped uncomfortably tight around you, constricting your lungs, bruising your body, whispering  _not yet_ as it casts a shadow of fear over you. The waiting is yet another serpent with your head fitted in its jaws, its breath cold and its venom paralyzing, twin of silence and brother of inevitability.

The dark cloth wrapped around your head and looped twice over your eyes, blocking out even the harshest lights in the room, is damp with your tears.

His hand slides over the ridge of your spine, touch feather-light and unnerving, little more than the grazing of his fingertips on your skin. You shiver at the sensation of his breath against your ear as he whispers something indistinct, words you can’t process right now, and you dig your nails into his chest, desperate to hold onto something. You feel the scaled pattern of snakeskin as his tail shifts under you. Your body is confused, stuck somewhere between fight-or-flight-inducing dread and wanton anticipation. Your mind is foggy with arousal and whatever he last injected you with.

He kisses your neck and you go rigid at the teasing scrape of hollow, venom-filled fangs over your jugular, the gentlest of reminders of just how fragile you really are. He does it again at the crook of your shoulder and just below your ear, and your breath catches in your throat when he breaks the skin but he withdraws and you hear him laughing under his breath.

“You’re trying to hold still,” he whispers, and you swallow nervously when he nibbles lightly at your earlobe, “I can tell. I feel how tense you are. You don’t even realizing how badly you’re shaking, do you?”

You shake your head.

“Answer me aloud.”

“N-no,” you whimper miserably, “I didn’t know I was shaking.”

“It’s cute. You remind me of a mouse,” he says, and suddenly you feel the coils of his tail tightening around your legs, squeezing you until you give a pained gasp, “or a rabbit,” and it isn’t necessarily that the pain is unbearable but you’re filled with that same instinctual fear again and you feel yourself struggling even though you’re afraid to move.

Sano’s hand flies to your throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off your air. “Something small and soft,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, “that doesn’t stand a chance.”

You cling to his shoulders, afraid of him, equally afraid to let go. “Please,” you stammer, “please don't….”

“Don’t?” he echoes in disapproval. He releases your throat and his fingers trace your skin to the base of your neck, tangling in your hair and moving over your scalp. You lean into the touch without meaning to. “You don’t know what you want, much less what you don’t. Let me help you.”

You feel him reach between your bodies, a shaky moan leaving his lips before you feel the engorged heads of both of his cocks nudging at your entrance. “W-wait….”

“Relax,” he murmurs, his tail uncoiling just enough that he can pull your legs further apart and raise your hips to position you over him.

You expect to feel him inside of you without any warning, but he keeps you there, leg muscles taut, back rigid, shoulders tense, and doesn’t move. “Sano?” you call, embarrassed by how frightened you sound. You can feel him all around you but you can’t see anything and the silence makes you nervous.

He doesn’t answer you. His hands suddenly fall on your shoulders and smooth down the front of your chest, and you’re startled at the moan he draws out of you for nothing more than gently touching you. He caresses your inner thighs, and you hold your breath as he moves closer to your center, towards sensitive, throbbing flesh with every nerve alive and on fire, waiting.

But he never touches you where you need him to. He skirts around it, massaging the connecting tissue between your torso and your legs. You can feel yourself trembling now, you know you’re a mess, biting your lip to keep down a desperate whine. It isn’t enough. He isn’t causing you pain, but somehow it still hurts.

Your shame and hesitation evaporates, his name falling from your tongue filled with desperation, but still he makes you wait. He watches you writhe on top of him, straddling his tail with your arms unbound yet you don’t have any control. “Fuck me,” you beg him, the pain of waiting nearly as bad as a scalpel through your flesh. “Fuck me, please, please, please….”

The silence stretches on. Your fingers drag down his chest and you press yourself against him, your core throbbing and your thoughts clouded. Every sensation you have is of him and only him, of his scent and the roughness of his scales, the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes and the occasional movement of his tail.

The serpent called waiting wraps itself around your heart and destroys the last of your pride. Sano rests his hands on your hips and watches it break you.

You can’t see him, but somehow you know he’s smiling.


End file.
